Musings

I feel as much as I think. I do both excessively.

Category: Crappy tales of the heart

I stayed

by avrillorenzo

I am finally writing about this because it’s been difficult moving on from this, but it’s been a long while since I did. I’m just writing about this now because we talked about it today and we found peace. Last year, he cheated on me. It’s not what you think, he didn’t sleep with her. He just tried with another girl only to prove that I’m the only one. Weird way of confirming that, right? If you really felt like you found the one, why would you try with someone else?

It all started when I had to work while studying at the same time. It was a pretty hard time for the family. My whole family suffered the onslaught of typhoon Yolanda way back 2013. And just as we were recovering from the damage and trauma, our house caught fire a year later. It was a really trying time for my family last year, what with my dad not having a stable job and my mom shouldering everything. Because of this, I had to find a way to support myself while on my last year at University. I didn’t get a part-time job. Nope, it was full-time and a night shift job, 21h until 6h. I only had one subject that semester, EL 199. But that didn’t make it easy with that being a subject for thesis.

Apart from all the fatigue, it took a toll on our relationship. He hated that he had to fall asleep without me on the other end of the line. He hated that by 21h, I would be hard to reach. I even blogged about how our situation rendered me tired. He hated that I wasn’t there… and she was. That’s how it all started.

I can’t go into detail about all of this because I have chosen to forget about it. Not because he asked me to, but rather to help myself. And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy. Their affair went on for 3 weeks. And every day of those three weeks, I wanted to leave. There were times when all I needed was one more step out the door, but he’d pull me back, crying and begging on his knees for me to stay. You can’t imagine the pain that I went through, carrying both mine and his during those times when he pleaded so much for me to give him one more chance with tears in his eyes. And it wasn’t just one time. It was a struggle because I felt like I had to choose, his pain or mine. There were times when I chose his and times when I chose mine.

Weeks, even months went by when we would end the day both tired and in tears, fighting over the same thing. I would relapse and he would try his best to help me get back to the present but he’d be taken to where I was and stop for a bit. He’d cry and tell me that he was more than his mistake and he’d ask me once more to focus on us, bringing us both back to the present with arms wrapped around each other.

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He tried, tries still to prove to me how much he regretted it. He continuously makes up for everything even though I’ve already forgiven him. He’d tell me how sure he was now that I’m the only one, the only one he wants and needs.
“It has been and will always be you.”
To be honest, I didn’t believe him before. And he knew I didn’t with every ‘I love you’ unreturned. It just didn’t make sense. He asked me not to make sense of it because it never mattered. It took a while, but I started believing in him again and I am now in awe of how he’s even more sincere with us, with me.

So here I am, still with him and happy. I have finally decided to focus on us which made it easier to leave the past behind. We’ve had it hard, what with people not believing in us anymore. But all that matters is our choice to be happy with each other and love each other better and more honestly. How a relationship ends up is all a matter of choice. And everything that happened between then and now were a series of choices which led us to where we are.

He chose to tell me the complete truth of how much of a mistake it was.

I chose to hear him out but not listen.

He chose to keep fighting for me even though I was letting go.

I chose to forgive.

He chose to build a better world for us.

I chose to stay.

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14/04/14

by avrillorenzo

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I vividly remember the dream I had last night.

I was walking down a familiar route, the route which would lead me to where my friends hang-out: a stone table with benches. I had ‘meeting’ running through my mind while walking. When I got to my destination, I saw my friends at one side, and a few people who I didn’t know on the other. There was something like an invisible barrier between the two and it was only when I sat down that it broke and the two parties on either side started interacting.

I saw a pack of cigarettes. I even remember the brand: it was one of those cheap ones that you can get anywhere except for 7-11s. I was shocked to see who was holding the pack and offering it to a new friend I just made, who was sitting beside that person. Then, it was offered to me and I declined. All of a sudden, everybody stood up and moved to another stone table near by, except for me and that person.

It was you.

All of a sudden, my friends started teasing me and you were grinning at them. I was seriously confused as to how that could get such a reaction from you. When you turned back to me, your pack was gone and you were looking at me expectantly. I searched the bag I had with me and didn’t have my pack. So I told my friends that I was going to buy a pack and I asked you to come with me. You said yes and started walking away. Without even looking, I called you and told you to come back. I never got an answer. I continued to riffle through my bag, looking for something. I figure it was probably my wallet since I was to buy a pack of cigarettes. It probably took me a while since I remember repeating what I was doing, exactly from opening my bag to riffling through it to pulling my hand out. That happened around six times before somebody sat in front of me. When I looked up, it was you. You said, “I’m back.” I replied with, “You came back.” And you smiled and said, “Because you told me to and you waited.”

We were well on our way to buy a pack when the scene morphed to the grounds of my high school. We walked up to this one vendor who’s pretty popular back in my school and you asked for a pack of my cigarettes, not the one you were holding. While we were waiting for him to give us our purchase, you asked me if I still had some of the things you gave me. I immediately answered no and you were disappointed. You took out your wallet and opened it wide for me to see. The pocket where you put pictures in was vacant, not like what I was expecting: your picture with her. I thought you were going to pay for my pack so I started looking for my wallet. But then you tapped my shoulder and then took out a red and green yarn braided together. You dangled it in front of me and I smiled. You still had it.

Suddenly, we were walking back to where the stone tables were with the route I was on at the start of my dream. It rained but we weren’t hit by it. It was like we repelled rain drops so we were dry. I don’t know why, but I started walking faster, leaving you behind. All of a sudden, I stopped when I felt you grab my hand. I looked back at you and there was a slight change in your demeanor and appearance: your hair’s a little longer and you looked tired. You even had new clothes on. I felt a sort of panic and I’m not sure what from. But all of that disappeared when you said these three words. The three words that I last remember before waking up.

“Wait for me.”

What a dream. The weirdest thing about it was the fact that I knew what you were saying even though I didn’t hear you say them. I just saw your lips move and I just knew what you were saying. It was only then that I realized I forget what your voice sounds like. That’s probably the reason why I didn’t hear you say the words you said. And only then did I realize that I want to hear your voice.

I’m not sure how to interpret that dream. Dreams have a lot of interpretations. But the funny thing is, I’ve had a lot of dreams about you, some the same and some different. I still dream of you. But this is the first one that I’ve ever shared because maybe it meant something. Funny how I don’t actually have the things that you gave me anymore. That bit was probably the only truth in the dream. But you still had that thing, the yarn, which I doubt you do because you found it ridiculous and useless.

I’ll probably never know if you still have it. I’ll probably hear your voice and never know it’s yours. I’ll probably never know what you want me to do about you.

Probably.

Parting

by avrillorenzo

I’ve been thinking about you… and nothing. Yes. Dare I say it: nothing. Everything seems clearer now, lighter, better. I stared at myself in front of the mirror with this thought, or lack there of, of you and my smile reached my eyes. I feel as if I’m in a daze, but a good and spectacular daze.

Before, saying your name was as if I would get the fucking plague because your name leads to the thought of you and everything that you were to me; I’d fall down on my knees and crumble. Now… nothing. I’ve been saying your name over and over again and I’m kinda sick of it already. Light, I feel light.

Nothing could faze me, not even sad tumblr posts. I’ve been seeing and reading them all day and all the while I felt sad. Sad not because it burned because of you, but because I sympathize with the people who blog and reblog these sad tumblr posts. I know how it feels. That’s just it. It’s not because I know how it feels because of you. God, I’m already tired of the thought of you. Not everything is about you; nothing is about you anymore.

You… Nothing.
I got the closure I needed. It’s confirmed: you’re with her. And I actually am happy.
Acceptance leads to happiness. I’m happy for you because first and foremost, I am happy for me and how finally I’m here where I am.

And let my happiness be the last of you in my life. I am glad to part with your part in me in such light and good terms. Maybe I’ll miss you in this new state of mine. But it probably wouldn’t be as often as I should.

Another Letter to No One Not in Particular

by avrillorenzo

I thank God for man and man’s capability of innovating technology. Because if it wasn’t for that gift, I would have killed a few hundred trees with the number of times I would have crumpled a sheet of paper with the things I want to tell you. A few clicks on the keyboard and I’ve either paraphrased or deleted a couple of useless sentences.

Hi there, stranger. Do you still remember me? I’m sure you do. But as you say my name in your head, it’s in that passive, detached voice of yours that annoys me to wits end. You know very well how I detest being irrelevant. Enough of me and this pointless rant about how you say my name in your head.. How are you? I haven’t talked to you in a while. The last conversation we had was via text messaging and me relatively under the influence of alcohol. I’m not saying that I only want to talk to you when I’m drunk. It’s not that. I want to talk to you, but I know that I shouldn’t. Alcohol makes me forget the latter. I rarely see you around school, not that I’m looking for you. I’m still not used to it, I guess.

Do you still remember how we’d talk ’til the wee hours of the morning about random things that didn’t usually go together but we found something in common about them? It would usually be because we both were partial to the two topics or because we would make them work. Remember how we did the same thing to us? People didn’t see it, us. But we made us work. Kudos to us for not being overrated. How very nonconformist of us. Do you still remember?

I’m sure the ‘us’ bit is disconcerting for you. The thought of an us flew out the window a long time ago. Or us was a homing pigeon that only knew your past address and after a few months, it found you in your new apartment in the city. It’s either romantic or crappy. In our–your case, it’s probably the latter. I’m sorry if I keep making things awkward for you. The letter alone is awkward, the content made it worse. I don’t know. I can’t control myself. I thought I’ve moved on, but I haven’t. Not yet, at least. I am moving on. I just wanted you to know that.

I’m actually a little mad at you. Why? Because you’re a jerk, that’s why. You’re an asshole, a grade A douche bag. I’m mad at you for being that way. But I’m not saying that you’re that kind of person, no. Not to everyone, just to me. I don’t understand why you had to lie to me about things. You know how much I value honesty, right? I don’t see the point of you lying. What, to make things easier? Did it even cross your mind that it would be easier for me if you just told me the truth? Because the truth does not produce ‘what-ifs’. I’m mad at you for that because I hate ‘what-ifs’. I hate them, and you… a little.

But I’m going to stop being mad at you now. And no, it’s not because I don’t want to be mad at you anymore and be friends with you again. No. It’s because I don’t want to be mad at you anymore. Because to be mad or angry implies that you care. And honestly, I just want to stop giving 2 fucks about you. You don’t deserve it.

But before that, let me tell you this:

I miss you.

Love,

A.

I fell in love with a fictional character.

by avrillorenzo

A little bird told me that you were pretty damn close with her today. Who is this her I speak of? Remember the time you said that this girl isn’t worth my time, that I should just leave things alone because she doesn’t matter? Yes, that girl. You were pretty damn close with her today.

I don’t really know how I feel about the whole thing. That’s the reason why I’m blogging about it. One thing I’ve discovered about myself is that when I blog, even though I don’t know what to blog about, the ideas just flood in and I reach a conclusion. So, here I am blogging my way to arriving to a conclusion.

A mystery, that’s what it is to me. It’s really hard to explain why such things occur, especially with you. You once told me things about her that weren’t really pleasant. Yes, they all came from you. But now that I hear that you and her are pretty chummy, maybe the world shifted its axis a bit. Or maybe your brain got jumbled or something, that you’re not in your right state of mind. I just don’t know what to make of the whole situation considering all that has happened, all that has been said. I’d hate to think that you’re a hypocrite but signs are pointing to that.

I wish I could ask you to clear things up for me. There is a call for clarity on my part. But it’s weird that I feel the need for clarification considering that I am not of any significance to you anymore. I’m not saying that in a ‘oh-woe-is-me’ tone. It’s a fact, the truth. I’ve accepted that already. You even forgot my birthday. There isn’t any tinge of bitterness in that statement. Okay, maybe a teeny-weenie bit. But overall, I’m okay. That just justifies that you’ve moved on.

Have I moved on? I don’t know. I don’t really think about it anymore. Sometimes, when you happen to cross my mind, that’s it; you just cross it. You don’t linger anymore. That’s immense progress. Maybe it helped that I rarely ever saw you. With that statement, I can’t even really say that I miss you. I don’t know. I guess I’m moving on. Like, legitimately moving on. And I’m happy about it.

But note that I am not completely and entirely over you. I don’t even know why any word of you still reaches me. I’m currently loaded with things I have to do and think about but you could always find your way into them. People still feel the need to tell me things about you. I’m not saying I don’t want to hear anything about you. Quite the opposite actually. I’d like to hear a few things about you. It assures me that you’re still alive. Yes, that sounds a tad bit cruel but that’s what it is. And I’d like to hear things about you for the purpose of testing myself if I still care. So far, things are going in my favor.

And alas, I’ve come to a conclusion: I’m bothered with you being pretty damn close to her but I’m moving on. And to add to that, maybe moving on isn’t that hard for me to do anymore.. Because all that is happening is proof that you are not the person I fell in love with.

A letter to no one not in particular.

by avrillorenzo

Hi there. I don’t know if you still remember me. You probably do, but I’m more of the ‘that girl’ said in such a passive tone in your present state of mind. How are you? And no, I don’t actually want to know because I pretty much can see how you are. Wait. Before you claim that I’m being too hasty about my assumptions and judgements about you, do acknowledge that I am unstable. Yes, that’s pretty much it. Oh, and don’t worry, I’m not saying that you’re probably miserable and all the crappy feels in the world. You actually seem okay. I hear you’re happy. That’s a good thing. And yes, I am lying.

I am actually upset that you’re happy. It’s not that I am saying that you don’t have the right to be happy. Nope, not at all. It’s just that you’re happy and I’m not. Between the both of us, I should be the one who deserves all of the happiness in the world. But no, you can’t always get what you want, even happiness. Sure, people would say that you need to move your ass to be happy, not just lounge about and wait for it to come. You need to deserve to be happy. But doesn’t that contradict the popular saying, ‘everybody deserves to be happy’. If I were to be spiteful, I’d say that you don’t deserve it. Nope, zippo, nada. You don’t deserve to be happy after all the bullshit, crappy awful feelings that you made another person feel.  But if I were to be honest, I can’t say that.

Yes, I am bitter. Yes, I am not over it yet.

Yes, I still love you. And I hate it.

Yes, I am lying.

About what? I don’t know.

But I actually do, and you’re probably assuming what it is I’m lying about. I’ll let you do what you want, since that’s all that I’ve been doing ever since I met you.

Okay, I admit. I let you take all the control between us and that bored your right away. That made you see that I wasn’t worth it. GOD THIS PISSES ME OFF. You always made me question my worth. How do you do that? Why do you still have this power over me? Why can’t you just.. Why can’t I just disappear? — See, this is your doing! I can’t blame you for anything! I defend you almost every chance that I get. Yes, I would say crap about you but then I’d counter the claim by telling stories of how great you are. Why? WHy? WHY?!

Why do I have to love you like this?

I hope to hear from you soon. But of course I won’t because this stupid letter is a blog entry and you have no idea of its existence. And it’s pretty crappy so nobody would see and read it because it’s incomplete and incoherent and just downright pathetic.

I miss you.

Love,

A.

I’ve been…

by avrillorenzo

I’ve been reading up on a lot of Thought Catalog posts recently. In some weird circumstance, I always find posts that relatively spoke of my situation until I found one that hit the spot. It’s the one I recently reblogged, the one before this entry. I don’t really want to explain what it was because I suck at explaining and you can read it if you like. That wasn’t what triggered me wanting to blog. No, I wanted to blog even before I came across that post. I just had to mention it, I guess, since I think this is gonna be about him. It’s related.

I’ve been listening to Ed Sheeran’s ‘Give me Love’ recently. I just downloaded it 6 days ago and it’s already got 51 plays. I thought it was one of those lovey-dovey songs. I’ve decided to listen to songs about the positive aspect of love as to aid me with whatever pathetic predicament I am in. I’m not really used to this. I usually prefer listening to songs that sing of the negative aspect of love as to appreciate the positive aspect of it more. I guess I’m taking a new approach. Well, this song spoke of the negative side and I can’t stop listening to it. Now, I’m pretty sure that this blog entry is going to be about him.

I’ve been avoiding thinking about him lately. It’s actually bad for me because I’m the type of person that needs to think/talk/listen to something so that I could get tired of it up to the point that I’ll think that it’s already irrelevant. So, yeah.. I’ve been avoiding thinking about him and talking about him which makes me think about him more. It’s getting really tiresome that I’m going around in circles with this but I can’t seem to find my way out of the route. Well, there is a way. But, sometimes I think I don’t want to take that route. I don’t know which stage of the ‘5 stages of grief’ I am in. I don’t want to think about it too much. I’d rather not and thus my current predicament.

I’ve been dreaming about him lately. It wouldn’t be solely a dream about him. He’d just pop out of nowhere. Like, I’d be walking down the street and he’d pass me by and say hi. That’s it. That’s his special appearance which bothers the hell out of me. Because I’ve successfully blocked him from my conscious state, but from my subconscious.. That’s another story and I hate it. Because I don’t have control over it anymore. Maybe it’s about time that I let thoughts of him consume me. That right there scares the crap out of me. I don’t want to go there; it seems like a dark place. I don’t have control. I hate not having control. I’m not a control-freak or anything.. I just need to have a grasp of things. But maybe this is what needs to happen. Not the whole of these consuming thoughts, just bits of it. So that has lead me to my current state.

I’ve been thinking about him lately.

I’ve been missing him lately.

I’ve been wanting to hear his voice lately.

But I won’t do anything about it, to appease that want. There are boundaries. Boundaries have been set. He set these boundaries and I am not going to breach them. Because despite the fact that this is happening to me, I’ve accepted that things will never be the same again. I guess I just have to let this happen. Think of him, talk about him, miss him and want him until the day that I don’t want to anymore.. Until the day that he completely becomes irrelevant.

And I think that’s going to happen soon. Think. Hope. Soon.

Wors(t).

by avrillorenzo

One of the worst feelings is when someone makes you smile, takes you in his arms and tells you he loves you; then you look into his eyes and know that it’s not possible. It’s not possible because you know there’s that someone else. The someone who set his standards.

And eventually he walks away. Just like that.

Then, you see him happy. He’s happy and that makes everything okay. But it breaks your heart and hurts much worse because it’s not you who he takes in his arms. You see the look in his eyes and know that there isn’t any doubt. You’re not the one who makes him smile. You’re not the one. Not even a little bit.

He said he’ll never forget. But the look in his eyes says that there wasn’t anything to remember.

About you.

by avrillorenzo

I wanted to write about you today.

I just got home from school. It was almost 3 in the afternoon. I didn’t want to do my homework yet. I have 3 days to do them so I decided to do things that didn’t involve school. I read this book of poems that I borrowed from my friend, read a few fan fictions and lingered around tumblr and twitter. All the while, I had my iTunes playing and on shuffle. Funny enough, just when I decided to go offline after I finish a few chapters of this one fan fiction I was reading, songs that reminded me of you played in succession. It creeped me out a little.

I found myself closing up web browsers and had a whole blank word document open and filling up my screen, the cursor waiting patiently for me to make it move. Closing my eyes, I waited for the words to come to me as I fill my ears with the tunes that spoke so much of you. They came, slowly. Every word. One by one. Just in phrases and never in sentences. The thoughts, the words didn’t flow out of me. They dripped. That never really happened before.

I had to stop and stare at what I’ve written. Just one paragraph and it took me a long time to get there. Almost 3 songs. That’s a long time for me, especially when I write about something or someone that has a pretty big impact on my life. I read the lines, the words, and I didn’t know how to react to them. It was as if the feelings that I’m trying to convey through words were felt a very long time ago, not 3 songs ago.

Different. The whole thing felt so different that I didn’t write anymore. I didn’t even save the word document. Then, I just stared at my wallpaper letting whatever it was that happened sink in before opening up the browsers I had up earlier.

I wanted to write about you today.. But I couldn’t. I guess, in a sense I wrote about you via this. But it’s not the same. Much like how it was when I wanted to write about you. It’s not the same..

And I think I don’t want it to be the way it was before again.

I just..

by avrillorenzo

miss you. So damn much. And that’s all that I can do.